Meet the Winchesters
by flowinthestream12
Summary: The Salvatores & the Mikaelsons meet the Winchesters. The Winchesters want to wipe-out the vampire species. While faced with their imminent destruction, maybe the Salvatores will recover the strong bond through the Winchesters that they lost when they turned into vampires. I've always wanted a crossover episode, so, I'm writing my own :)
1. The Newcomers

Everything about the newcomers was intimidating to the creatures of Mystic Falls. Both of the men were enormously tall, one more than the other, and taut with muscle. The vampires honed in on how the two men's weathered shoes thudded against the restaurant floor with each step they took, the sound impossible to drown out. Their odor of stale musk and cologne could be scented from a mile away by any of the werewolves, alcohol particularly off one of the two more than the other. It couldn't be more obvious that the two men were related if the word was tattooed across their foreheads.

Their histories could be read in their resigned eyes. The taller of the two had tired hazel eyes that seemed to have once been a soft as feathers, hardened into calculating daggers over many years. He towered over every customer and waiter in the Grill no matter how much his broad shoulders wilted. It struck the elder Salvatore to be odd as he observed that the shorter man seemed to be the leader of the pair, the tallest standing behind him like hired muscle.

This man was not much older than thirty, but, he had an aura about him that felt as though he had lived five times that amount. The lines in his face were not those from laughter or anything of the sort. These were traces of the hardships he had suffered. His hair was much, much shorter than the taller man. Though he was the shorter of the two, he'd still have Tyler Lockwood trembling in his muddy football cleats.

Damon nudged Stefan's shoulder with his, "Check out the beanstalks over there."

Stefan's bushy brows almost met his spiky dark blond hairline, "Who do you think they are?"

Damon squinted over his shoulder as Matt Donovan seated the two men, chuckling, "Just heard 'Sammy'. The tall one."

Stefan followed Damon's gaze but quickly turned away so that the men wouldn't think he was watching them, "_Real _specific, Damon. They're _both_ tall."

"The one with Simba's mane," Damon clarified with a role of his eyes, chuckling again as he watched 'Sammy' gingerly take a seat in one of the booths by the window, "Wonder if his ears pop from the altitude change."

The tallest man eased himself onto the bench, his hands sliding from his hips, down his mile-long thighs, to his boney knees. The other just plopped down with no sign of discomfort.

"Shut-up, Damon. We don't know who they are," Stefan hissed at his older brother, stirring his untouched Coke with his straw. "They could be other vampires, or werewolves, or even hybrids -"

Damon smirked, "Try 'afternoon tea'."

"Try _hunters_," Alaric said as he joined the Salvatores at the bar. He spotted the cocky glint rekindling in Damon's turquoise eyes, "Don't you even _think_ about doing anything stupid, Damon. From what I hear, even old vampires like you two are 'afternoon tea' to these men. They've dealt with things even _I_ didn't know existed."

Stefan sighed, "I'm tired of hearing you say stuff like that. What happened to the good ol' days of just vampires and werewolves bickering over the Sun and Moon Curse?"

"_Klaus_ happened," Damon growled, looking suddenly serious. "Wonder if that son of a bitch knows they're in 'his' town."

Damon frowned as the sunlight was suddenly blocked. Before he could turn around, he heard one of the voices of the two hunters come far too close for comfort.

"Heard my catch-phrase," said a deep, husky, gravelly voice from behind Damon.

Damon turned around on his bar stool, trying to resist gulping his instinctual intimidation as he gazed up into the 'shorter' man's green eyes.

"My name is Dean Winchester and this is my brother, Sam," Dean gestured to Sam hovering behind him. "We're here to ask you a few questions."


	2. One Stone

Sam narrowed his hazel eyes, glancing between the two young men. He knew exactly what they really were and, with a single significant look with Dean, so did his brother. He stretched up to his full 6'5'' height, pushing his shoulders back and his broad chest out. Dean had led the way to the two vampires sitting at the bar after they both checked that their stakes were safely stowed in Sam's Carhartt coat and Dean's leather jacket. The Colt was stuffed in the back of Dean's jeans, which he was saving for certain _very_ ancient creatures.

Damon could smell the gunpowder.

"Careful. Your face might stay like that, 'Sammy'," the black-haired vampire sneered up at Sam. That sneer stretched when he caught sight of Sam's jaw clenching, "How about we skip the pretenses? I'm Damon Salvatore and this is my baby bro', Stefan." He clapped his hand on Stefan's shoulder, "And I just so happen to be a vampire. More than likely, I'm the one that you're lookin' to stake."

Damon held out his wrists as though Dean was supposed to cuff them.

Stefan smacked the back of his boney hand against Damon's muscly shoulder, "_Damon_, stop!"

Just as Alaric was about to step between them, Dean raised his brows, "Nice try, _boy_." Damon's lip curled at the word as Dean elaborated, "We're not here to waist our breath on you."

Damon and Stefan simultaneously glanced up over Dean's shoulder at Sam, who still looked like he was trying to burn a hole in their faces with his eyes.

Stefan grumbled, "Could've fooled me." Stefan stepped off his stool, fully realizing how much shorter he was then both Sam and Dean, "Why have you come here?"

Sam curled his lip, tilting his chin upward a little as though to assert his dominance, "For a 'chat' with Nicholas Mikaelson."

"I think it's Ni_klaus_, Sam. Whatever, fugly name'll be on a headstone no matter how it's freakin' pronounced," Dean watched Stefan and Damon share a look of amusement, "What's got you two giggling?"

Damon stepped down from his stool and circled around Dean, patting the hunter on the back, chuckling, "It's just a funny - no, _hilarious_ - coincidence. See, we've been looking to have a 'chat' with the guy for a long while, too. Many a times. He's all booked up, I'm afraid."

So far, the Salvatore and their gang of friends have failed twice to kill the Original hybrid. The thought that these two humans, no matter how much they towered over everyone in Mystic Falls, could stand a chance made Damon laugh. Sam had tensed up, like a beast stalking a target, when Damon touched Dean. This did not go unnoticed by Stefan. It was very clear just by that split-second moment that this man was very protective of his brother ... and that either one would be a force to be reckoned with that no supernatural creature should desire to be on the receiving end of.

Stefan wondered to himself if he would ever feel that protective of his _own_ brother, or vice-versa, and felt his heart sink with envy of the Winchesters. Sam and Dean had not yet acknowledged Alaric's presence.

Alaric held out his hand, "I'm Alaric Saltzman."

"What's the high school history teacher doing at a bar?" Dean smirked, chuckling as he shook Alaric's hand, "Wish_ my_ teachers were that cool back in the day."

"Looked into my background?" Alaric and Damon looked at each other before Alaric explained, "That's just my day-job, by the way."

Damon laughed to himself from where he was leaning on the pool table at how Alaric seemed to be a fan of the Winchesters. This was just a much tamer version of a teenage girl bumping into her favorite boy-band.

Dean sighed, "Can find anything on the internet nowadays." His expression hardened instantly when he saw Damon eyeing Sam like how Bobby looked at his flask, "Keep your eyes in your head, vampire."

Alaric pressed his hand against Dean's stone-like chest, "Hey, I guarantee you that _he'll_ give you no trouble." Dean's green eyes narrowed further and Alaric immediately stepped back, "We don't want any bloodshed. I can take you to the Mikaelson mansion myself. I'm not a vampire or anything. We're all on the same side."

"That remains to be seen, sir." Sam was not letting Stefan or Damon out of his sight, "And we don't need an escort. Just directions. It's one thing we _couldn't_ find on the internet. This guy doesn't want to be found. Not even on Map Quest."

"With good reason," Dean looked down at Stefan, "Just give it up and we'll be out of your overly-styled hair, kid."

As usual, Stefan was more than willing to cooperate with authority figures. This always made Damon roll his stunning turquoise eyes and this time was no exception.

Stefan directed Dean back to where they had been seated by Matt, feeling very nervous when he turned his back on the giant hunter, "I'll write them down on a napkin for you, sir."

* * *

"Elena won't be happy if they manage to kill Elijah, too." Stefan mused aloud as they watched the massive 1967 black Chevy Impala disappear around the corner from the Grill. "As far as we know, he's still stuck in a coffin."

Damon scoffed, "She'll get over it. This is a win-win for us, Stefan!" He held up a finger before Stefan's pointed nose, "One, the Winchesters get splattered all over Klaus's new furniture and they'll be out of our 'overly-styled' hair." Another pale and slender finger shot up, "Two, they actually somehow, _magically_, incredibly _kill_ the bastards and you and I get to celebrate by drinking them dry via their jugulars."

Alaric joined them outside the Grill after paying for their drinks, "You really want to stay on the sidelines and not have a hand in taking down Klaus? Weren't you a soldier when you were human, Damon? Try to be as brave as you were back then. Remember, if the Winchesters _do_ kill Klaus ... you two might just die as well."

Stefan and Damon simultaneously stared at where the Impala had disappeared, cursing under their breath.

"No wonder they didn't make a move on us!" Damon growled, aiming a kick at the brick wall. "They know about the blood line!"

"They're going to genocide all vampires across the globe by wiping-out the Originals," Stefan gasped, frowning at Alaric.

Alaric nodded solemnly, "Suddenly the saying 'killing two birds with one stone' gets personal."


	3. A Fire Will Rise

Klaus was leaning on the stone railing of his balcony, drinking in the setting sun's rays. He closed his grey eyes for a couple of seconds, frowning when he heard his bedroom door shut sharply. Klaus smelled Chanel and knew who must have come to call.

"Ah, little sister." He mused, opening his eyes as he turned around to face her, "To what do I owe this delight?"

Rebekah didn't seem as cross as she usually did, "Damon and Stefan are off doing God-knows-what. It's lonely at the Salvatores'. I just came by to be with my brothers."

Klaus smirked, "I'm not letting Elijah out just yet. Don't even think about asking for Kol ... or Finn, for that matter. That disgraceful self-loather."

"You _are_ one of my brothers, are you not?" Rebekah scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stepped out onto the balcony, resting her back on the railing.

Klaus studied her critically, "You don't want anything from me?"

"Only your attention," Rebekah pouted.

Klaus sighed dramatically, scanning his bedroom, "Lucky for you, I just sent away my hybrid friends. We can be alone for a little while. They'll be back in an hour or so. What would you care to do?"

Rebekah smiled, "How about -"

She was interrupted by a crackling roar. Down below, a serpent of fire was encircling their vast backyard. Hidden behind a row of finely manicured bushes, Sam and Dean were crouched as small as their large frames could possibly allow. They had spilled a stream of gasoline all around the outskirts of the backyard lawn before lighting it up as a distraction. It was working: the two creatures were still out on the balcony.

Dean fished the Colt out from the back of his jeans and reluctantly handed it to his brother, "We really got to figure out a better way than rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets to do the stupid part of the plan."

Sam grinned with a small chuckled, "I won't miss, Dean."

Dean rubbed Sam's spine up and down once, "I got your back, man."

Sam shook him off with a little chuckle and stepped over the row of bushes easily with his long legs. Before the wall of flames could reach their spot, Sam stepped onto the other side and aimed the pistol up at the balcony. The two creatures stared at him and laughed.

"Relax, it's just a gun." Rebekah giggled, but, Klaus seemed uneasy.

Sam pulled the trigger ... the bullet lodged in Rebekah's skull. A few seconds passed and Klaus watched his sister drop to the ground. This wasn't unexpected ... her bursting into flames was most certainly. Before Sam could aim at Klaus, Klaus ducked out of range and cried as his sister burnt to a crisp. With a bellowing roar of fury, Klaus leapt from the balcony down to the grassy ground two stories below in a blur that caught Sam off guard.

Dean watched in terror as Klaus knocked Sam effortlessly to the ground and rip into Sam's stomach. At that same moment, Stefan and Damon arrived on the driveway of the Mikaelson mansion.

Dean was numb for a split second, "Wha-? SAM! NO! "

Stefan and Damon heard Dean's cry and raced after where the sound came from. Sam was most certainly dead, but, that would never stop Dean from leaping through the flames and pelting across the lawn to his fallen brother. Damon reached the scene first and his mouth dropped open as he watched the human fearlessly vault through the hellish flames.

Damon chuckled to himself as Stefan skidded to a halt at his side, "Mad-respect, bro."

"What the hell happened?" Stefan gasped, gesturing to the wall of fire.

Damon shrugged, "Didn't miss _much_, Stef. But, I think the skyscraper-one is a goner. Brad Pitt just jumped through the fire after him."

Stefan smirked, "Wouldn't do that for me, would you?"

"That would kill me, ya idiot." Damon scoffed.

Stefan rolled his eyes as though he was a fool to hope that Damon would respond any differently. Klaus wasn't just drinking Sam's spilling blood ... he was eating his flesh as well. Dean felt an unexpected gust of wind ... then heard the rumbling flaps of colossal wings. There was Castiel peeling Klaus off of Sam's mutilated body just as Dean skidded on his knees to a halt at Sam's side. Simultaneously, Castiel killed the fire - revealing Damon and Stefan looking-on from not too far away.

The Salvatore brothers stepped back together in shock when the fire suddenly vanished.

"Can't explain_ that_ part," Damon scoffed, his eyes falling on the scene of Dean at Sam's side and a stranger holding Klaus at bay.

Sam's belly was torn apart, his blood was steadily spouting out around the jagged folds of skin. Astonishingly, he was still alive, hanging on by less than a thread.

Klaus looked utterly perplexed at the angel, "What_ are _you?"

"I'm an angel of the lord," Castiel replied in his signature monotone.

At the same time, Stefan and Damon repeated doubtfully, "Angel?"

Dean was too focused on Sam to notice that Klaus's strength had no effect on Castiel whatsoever. No matter how violently Klaus struggled, which sometimes was so fast he almost blurred invisible, he could not break free of the angel's grip on his biceps. Damon and Stefan looked on in awe as Castiel effortlessly lifted Klaus off the ground about a foot when Klaus started to kick. With a resounding _crack_, Klaus's struggles broke his own shoulder and elbow - which Stefan winced at the sound of.

But, Klaus was too blinded by rage to care. Sam was trembling violently from head to toe.

Dean shook his head feverishly, "He's going in to shock - DO SOMETHING, CAS!"

In a flurry, Castiel snapped Klaus's neck and the hybrid dropped lifelessly to the ground.

"He will remain immobile only for a few minutes at most," Castiel warned as he took his hands off of the creature. He knelt down at Sam's side and pressed two of his fingers to Sam's cold forehead, "You should have included me in your plans in the first place, Dean. This wouldn't have come to pass if I were here."

It took a second or two longer than usual, due to the severity of the injury. But, Sam gasped hungrily after his wounds were healed over.

"Can't explain that, either." Damon commented, acting as though he was unimpressed while Stefan did not hide his amazement.

"Maybe he's a witch?" Stefan suggested hopefully.

Damon shook his head, "No, Stefan. Klaus couldn't fight him off. This guy's something else entirely."

Sam, Dean, and even Castiel, were too distracted to notice Damon and Stefan watching them.

Dean guffawed with great relief and clapped Sam on his burly shoulder, "_Ha-ha_, Sammy! Atta-boy! Nearly lost you!"

Sam clutched Dean's hand, "That ... that _thing _really has a lot of juice. Felt like I got hit by a train!"

"Looked like you did, too." Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder again, "Let's get'cha inside, man. Clean you off in those fancy-sh-mancy showers they got." Dean strained as he helped his very large little brother back to his feet, gasping to Castiel, "Don't forget Mr. anger-management. _His_ death is going to be a bit slower than the bitch's."


	4. Resurrection of a Brother

The Mikaelson estate had an massive mansion with three floors, outranking the locally famous two-story Antebellum-styled Lockwood home. The third floor was separate domelike structure that sat above the two below. It had a deceptively modern style outside, which was painted a color eerily similar to that of a fresh corpse. All of the windows were at least three panels high. It was a cold and imposing structure.

With Castiel on their heels, holding barely conscious Klaus up by the shoulders, Dean broke into the mansion with one powerful stomp from his booted foot and hurried Sam ahead of him. Sam was still reeling from the aftershock of being mauled by the hybrid, but, he couldn't help gasping at how beautiful the mansion was on the inside compared to the outside. Even Dean seemed to take a split-second to take note of the change in aesthetics. The room they came in to appeared to be a storage room. Several paintings were on display either hanging from the brick walls or sitting on several easels.

There was a wooden bench covered in sketches, varying in age. Castiel sat Klaus on his heels in front of the fireplace. Before Klaus was fully conscious, Castiel pulled out two Angel Blade from inside his trench coat and bent one around Klaus's wrists and the other around his ankles. With a wave of his hand, the two metals connected and molded together, Klaus's hands and feet touching where he sat.

Dean raised his eyebrows, his green eyes boiling over with concern, "Do you think that'll hold him?"

Castiel straightened up, but, didn't step away, "We shall see when he fully heals."

Dean pinched Klaus's chin, "Got 'cha hog-tied good 'n' tight, monster."

Sam groaned and Dean looked at over at him, "Go see if they've got Advil in the kitchen, Sam. Don't go any further than that without telling me. Who knows what this freak keeps in the house."

Sam nodded with a sigh of relief, "Don't start without me." But, no more than a minute passed, in which Castiel started a fire in the fireplace, before Sam came running back to Dean, "There's five coffins in a room! Come look!"

* * *

Klaus's head rolled around in a semi circle from shoulder to shoulder as he blinked away his blurry vision. He could see three shadowy shapes standing around him. As his vision cleared, he saw the man he had been eating standing closest to him. His two layers of shirts beneath his Carhott coat were battered and bloodied, torn apart to reveal his stomach ... his six-pack was completely intact. Klaus didn't understand, he knew this man was not a vampire.

He would've smelled it if it were the case. There were two other men in the room, but, Klaus could only stare at the man he had been consuming and the man in the trench coat whom he couldn't fight off. Comprehension dawned on him as he stared at each man. The man in the trench coat must have healed the man whom murdered Rebekah in cold blood.

"That's cheating." Klaus growled.

Dean chuckled, "Nice accent, Harry Potter."

Klaus wanted to lunge at the man, but, found that his hands and feet were bound together. He tried to pull himself free with zero progress. Fear and confusion hitched behind his protruding Adam's apple. Klaus could dead-lift over five thousand pounds. _What was this contraption?_ The third man that had come to try to save Klaus's meal stepped into the firelight.

"What do ya know, it actually works." Dean poked the makeshift handcuffs with the toe of his boot and Klaus twisted around, growling like a hellhound. The guttural roar sent chills sparking all over Sam's body. Dean leapt backward on of biting-range, "_Woah_! Easy, Lassie." He squinted at the fangs that suddenly appeared in place of Klaus's canines, "Where I come from, vampires have retractable fangs, but," Dean twirled his finger in a circle around his lips, "all over the f'in place. Wouldn't wanna run into 'em, trust me, mister 'hybrid'. Now, ya'll were some witch's bastard creation, huh?"

Klaus smirked devilishly, "It's easy for you to be brave when you have your own personal indestructible resuscitator. Free me and we'll see how brave you _really_ are."

"We could say the same thing about you," Sam stepped as close as he could to the ancient hybrid without risking getting bit, glaring down from his superior stature, "Without _your_ supernatural gifts, you'd just be a stuck-up little Viking up against two heavyweights from Kansas."

Klaus looked passed Sam's long legs and saw a coffin laying on the hardwood floor.

If Klaus's face could drain of color, it would, "Did you three bring that in here?"

Dean cocked his brows, "You really shouldn't leave your things laying around, Niklaus. Never know who might stumble upon them."

"Hard to overlook freakin' _caskets_," Sam sneered at Klaus.

With Castiel supervising from where he was leaning on the mantlepiece over the fireplace, Sam and Dean started to pace in opposite directions encircling Klaus.

Dean smirked over at Sam, "How many graves do you think we've exhumed, Sammy? Twenty, thrity-five, maybe?"

"Lost count," Sam grumbled, glaring at Klaus as he rubbed his exposed six-pack.

Dean laughed, "Point is, we've seen some ugly crap, Mikaelson. So, we were quite ... _surprised_ when we opened _your _coffins."

"Not pretty, but, we've seen worse." Sam shrugged.

Dean was fiddling with the Colt absentmindedly as he walked, letting it glint in the firelight to scare Klaus, "I've been to hell, man." Klaus scoffed and frowned up at Dean, whom laughed again, "That's right, I've died before ... and so has he," Dean gestured at Sam as they passed each other, "But, I was trained in the art of torture from a demon -"

"You're mad," Klaus chuckled humorlessly, "There's no such thing."

Dean laughed, "Oh, you must've missed out on the part where my friend here," He gestured at Castiel, "healed my brother you were tucking into like I do with pie. Trust me when I say that anything is possible," Klaus glanced warily in Castiel's direction, massaging his healing shoulder. Dean sneered, "The demon's name was Alastair. For forty years, I learned everything he had to teach. They've been doormat for a few years since I've been back. But, I think I can dust off my old brain and pick out a few to show you."

"You're sick," Klaus whispered.

Sam shook his head, "Open it, Castiel."

Inside the coffin lay a man an inch or two shy of six feet tall. He had warm curtains of ebony hair split directly down the middle. His face was finely chiseled by puberty, but, with a small clef in his chin.

Dean grinned down at Klaus, singing off-tune, "_What's your fantasy_?"

At recognizing whom was inside the coffin, Klaus struggled harder against his bonds.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Klaus spat through gritted teeth. "You killed my sister! Leave him alone!"

Sam watched the fear swirling in Klaus's grey eyes like a tornado, "It's his brother." He shook himself free of his torn shirt and pulled his Carhott coat back on, his taut abs still viewable, "Did you kill him? Your own brother? Are all the corpses your family?"

Hoping the lie would keep Elijah from being shot truly-dead with the Colt, Klaus nodded vigorously, "I killed him ... he's dead."

Castiel suddenly tensed and Dean caught the look in those crystal blue eyes, "What is it, Cas?"

"I hear two sets of footsteps," Castiel growled, staring fixedly at something Dean nor Sam could see.

Sam smiled, "That's us, Cas."

There was a gust of wind as something too fast for the human eye to see encircled the room and skidded to halt in the doorway.

It was Damon Salvatore, smirking as though he was the only one in on an inside-joke, "Actually, it's was my brother and I he heard, Gigantor."

Dean chuckled, "Get the popcorn, Cas. We've got ourselves an audience." Cas squinted at him and Dean shook his head, groaning as he added for the umpteenth time, "It was a joke."

"Leave the sass to your elders, Winchester." Damon smirked, strutting into the expansive room.

Sam stepped to Dean's side in case he needed to protect him, still aching even after Castiel had healed him. When the second vampire arrived, Sam saw Stefan notice that he was moving rather stiffly and made an effort to behave more fluidly.

Klaus roared from where Castiel was now holding him in place, "Don't just stand there! Take the gun out of his bloody hands! Punch his head off! "

"Oh, I will _not_ lay a hand of a beautiful work of God like that," Damon smirked, gesturing at Dean's face, "Seriously, man, that mug must get you a ton of desperate bitches."

Dean cocked his eyebrows, grinning humorlessly, "And vampires, too, apparently."

"_They've killed Rebekah!"_ Klaus cried.

Stefan turned his gaze to Elijah laying helplessly in his coffin while Damon tilted his head up at Dean, "_Tut-tut-tut_, bitch-move, dude."

_ "They're going to kill me_!" Klaus bellowed, hissing as Castiel gripped his curly blond hair tightly.

"Hey, look over there!" Damon pointed at the artwork Klaus stole from the Louvre, "It's an 'F' I do not give about _you_, Klaus." Damon then sighed and stepped in between Dean and the Original Hybrid, "Unfortunately, in light of fairly-recent _info_, I cannot allow you Abercrombie-sasquatches to kill him -"

"Your insults aren't helping, Damon!" Stefan turned imploringly up at Dean, "If you kill Klaus, you'll wipe-out every single vampire he ever created!"

Sam nodded solemnly down at Stefan, "That's what we're after."

"That includes our handsome faces!" Damon clarified as he quickly gestured to himself and Stefan with a wag of his finger.

"Now there's an 'F' _I_ don't give." He aimed the Colt at Damon's heart, "This is going down whichever way you choose ... _Damon_," Dean was reluctant to call the vampire by a name, "I could shoot you dead right here 'n now. But, here is my mercy and it's the only type you're gonna get. Family's so important to you, huh? _Prove_ it."

Damon gritted his teeth, but, his defiant glare softened.

Dean scoffed after a few seconds of tension built, "What're you still standing here for? Go spend your last moments with your brother." Dean glanced at Stefan, who could only look on helplessly, "Guess you don't mean as much to each other as you've been advertising."

As though he didn't have a supernatural-creature-killing-machine aimed at his pectoral, Damon stepped between Dean and Stefan, his fangs dropping and his eyes darkening, "Threaten my brother one more time and you'll find out just how much that 'lil asshole means to me."

Gazing easily over the tops of Dean's and Damon's heads, Sam caught sight of the warmth that flooded Stefan's green eyes ... which then froze-over again with confliction and doubt. Sam was all too familiar with that feeling. Slightly unnerved that he was relating to a monster yet again, he felt the urge to intervene.

"Dean," Sam laid his enormous hand on top of the Colt and weighed it down slowly. When Dean and Castiel turned questioningly up at him, Sam said to Damon, "We're not the bad guys, Damon Salvatore." Damon seemed to swell a little with the respect that Sam was pretending to show as his fangs retracted and his eyes cleared, "This is for the safety of everyone -"

Damon curled his lip, interrupting Sam by growling under his breath,"Excluding _vampires_, of course."

Losing his patience, Dean suddenly closed the distance and pressed the muzzle of the Colt to Damon's forehead, "Excluding_ murderers_, you deranged freak!"

"Little birdie told me _you_ are to blame for quite a number of supernatural creatures' deaths." Damon gasped, thinking of Alaric, struggling to turn his emotions off.

Fear of the Colt was a hard pill to swallow for all of the creatures in the room.

"Going for a new record," Dean snarled down at him.

"So, you might wanna watch who you put the 'murderer' label on, my friend."He grinned bravely, "Plus, I'm not the one holding a gun to another man's head."

Dean scoffed, "Who needs a gun when you have switchblades for canines?"

They all turned toward the sounds of the massive double front doors creaking open and shutting with a deafening _slam_. A smile stretched across Klaus's voluptuous lips that gave everyone else, even Castiel, an uneasy feeling.

"I don't like that look on him," Sam whispered to Dean.

Damon looked to Stefan, "Time to go, man. The damn hybrids are back."

In the blink of an eye, the two brother vampires were gone. Sam shivered as he heard was sounded like a herd galloping their way towards the room they were in.

Klaus roared to whoever had just arrived, "KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!"

Castiel summoned the Angel Blades off of Klaus and grabbed the Winchester brothers by their elbows. Just as his hybrid minions arrived in the room, the three vanished into thin air. Klaus collapsed forward onto the hardwood floor, finally free. Ignoring the hybrids' concerned questions, Klaus crawled over to Elijah and pulled out the dagger in his brother's chest.

He watched the veins begin to fade from Elijah's face, "Wake-up, my dear brother. It's time for a family reunion."


	5. Loss

The fire cast on the brick walls from the chandelier looming highlighted the shadow of a man sitting-up in his coffin. Elijah felt at his wound while gazing around the room he found himself in. He smelled fresh paint and wood stain. He could smell that blood had been spilt just beyond the door which he deduced led to the outdoors. Elijah's stomach clenched with hunger. His last memory was of being stabbed for his gullibility ...

Elijah hissed through gritted teeth, "_Klaus_!"

He rose to his feet elegantly and stepped over the rim of his coffin, readjusting his dark blazer. When he saw whom was watching him, leaning in the doorway nearest to Elijah's coffin, his jaw dropped. He had not seen this young man in close to a century.

"Kol?" he breathed, closing the distance between him and his youngest surviving brother. "I can't believe it."

Kol had been 'murdered' by Klaus back in the early 20th century. Elijah's little brother was still wearing his oatmeal sweater, faded grey Henley, and sleeveless dark vest. He was still wearing dark work pants, leather shoes, and his brown hair was still slicked upward in a coif. If Kol has not yet adjusted to the new time period, it could only mean that he has just been released. Elijah wondered how much time had passed.

_Why was Klaus setting them free now? _

With a smirk, Kol accepted Elijah's embrace, "How did you escape, brother?"

Kol shrugged, "The prick let me go." Elijah saw a note of despair spread in Kol's dark eyes as his little brother informed him, "Rebekah has been murdered."

Elijah shook his head, "_How_? Who told you that?"

Rebekah had been the youngest surviving member of their family. Henric was the first and youngest of their family to die in the new land. Their parents had lost a child before making the journey across the Atlantic, before any of them had been born. Elijah always dotted on her and treated her like a delicate flower. Sometimes, this protective behavior irked her.

But, deep down, she appreciated it especially when Kol treated her like one of the guys and Klaus bossed her around with his nasty temper. With their father on a murderous pursuit of them, especially Klaus, Rebekah must have been grateful to have a brother care for her so much.

"_I_ showed him her charred corpse," Klaus growled as he appeared behind Elijah. "It's still cooling out on my balcony if you need proof."

Klaus's mouth was coated in crusting blood that ran down his throat and spread in a blackening stain across his shirt. Klaus scratched at the blood caught in the clef in his chin and sucked it down. _Has Klaus killed Rebekah? No ... this blood smells human. _Elijah was overwhelmed, his dark eyes glancing between Klaus and Kol feverishly. He had a brother back yet had been told his sister was gone forever. Elijah never had the chance to reunite with her.

Elijah aggressively gripped a handful of Klau's stained shirt and demanded with a trembling voice, "Take me to her! If you are lying ... God help your mutilated soul."

Klaus peeled Elijah's hand off of his shirt easily, letting Elijah's truth roll of his heart, "This way, dear brother."

Elijah eyed the back of Klaus's curly blond head as he escorted Kol and him to the topmost floor with such intensity he may singe those golden locks. He didn't take a moment to admire the elegant interior embellishments they past with each corridor and steep staircase. Kol walked a little behind Elijah with so little expression Elijah may have thought his emotions were gone. When Klaus pulled apart the curtains to the balcony, Elijah let out a gasp of despair as his eyes fell on Rebekah's burnt body. There was little more than ashes left. When he dropped to her side and touched her skull, the cranium crumbled at his touch.

"How did this happen? I thought we burnt the white oak to the ground!" Elijah could feel himself losing all pretenses.

He needed to know how his precious sister met such a gruesome end. He would take revenge on Klaus after the information. Kol appeared to be frozen, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at the large pile of ashes. Klaus curled his lip as he watched Elijah examine the corpse more closely. _At least_, Klaus thought to himself silently, _now they will never learn the truth about our mother's death ... as long as Rebekah did not tell anyone else_. _I will need to pay a visit to the Salvatores and their little sweetheart, Elena_.

Klaus clenched his jaw, "We have a new threat, my two brothers. You do not need to worry about me. I am not your enemy this time, believe that. The only reason why you're free is to help your dear brother who kept you safe throughout your ... '_banishment'_."

Kol's dark eyes were fixed on Klaus in a cold sort of manner, only his curling lip displaying his feeling of insult. Elijah remained kneeling at Rebekah's side, pinching a lock of her golden hair up from the tiled floor and petting it between his thumb and ring finger.

Klaus stuck his chin out, "The new threat is a pair of brothers. Though they may be mere men, only human, they are heavily armed. They seek to wipe-out what our late mother created. Rebekah was shot with a revolver. It may look small and insignificant, but ... take a look at the damage it causes."

All three of the creatures gazed upon their fallen sisters corpse as Kol asked with a gesture at Klaus's disheveled appearance, "Did you kill one of them?"

Thinking of Sam Winchester, Klaus chuckled humorlessly, "I _thought_ I had."

"You never leave a victim alive once you've started," Kol prompted Klaus to elaborate.

Klaus smirked up at him, "The Winchesters have a creature at their disposal. This ... this _thing_ can overpower _me_. He _cannot_ be _beaten_ by _me_. He can _heal_ them. He can bring them back from the brink of death. It's possible he can bring them back even _after_ they've been killed. This is why I have risen you both from your slumbers."

Kol unclenched his teeth, "Where is Finn?"

Klaus jeered at him tauntingly, "Seeing as Finn _never_ embraced the gift our mother bestowed upon us and would happily watch us _all_ spontaneously combust ... I thought it wise to leave the traitor rotting in his box. Don't you agree? Wouldn't want _him_ joining forces with these Winchesters and that trench-coated bastard. The less the Winchesters know about our species, the better. Can we set our differences aside in this time of need?"

Elijah and Kol could only glare at him, the ashes of their murdered sister crumbling at her brothers' feet.

* * *

Dean shut the trunk of the Impala with care. It always irked him whenever Sam slammed any part of his prized car. It was parked outside of a molding motel on the outskirts of the haunted town of Mystic Falls, Virginia. He locked it and turned to return to the room he and his brother had just scammed into renting. The chilly air brushed by the nape of his neck and Dean peered over his shoulder, the short hairs erecting themselves on the back of his neck. The Colt was safe inside the motel room, therefore, Dean was unarmed.

Damon, whom had been stalking Dean, tackled him to the ground, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Dean crumbled beneath the vampire's strength. Any effort to push himself free was in vain. Damon pinned Dean's brawning arms to the asphalt ground and let him get an eyefull of his darkening blue eyes and growing cainines.

"Aren't you gonna call out for your brother?" Damon jeered, licking his sharp fangs, "Don't wanna save me the trouble of getting Invited? How rude of you."

Dean would never call out Sam just to keep himself alive. Sam meant more to him than that. He glared stubbornly up at the vampire, conveying all those thoughts in every etch of his green eyes. Just as Damon was about to tear into Dean's neck, Stefan swooped in and ripped Damon off of Dean.

Damon shoved Stefan off of him, getting in his face aggressively, "What are you doing? I almost had him, you idiot!"

Stefan scoffed, "I can't save your life without you criticizing me?"

Dean got to his feet gingerly, one hand rubbing his sore ribs, "Hey," his voice cracked from the pain of his throbbing bruise, "I got the same crap from _my_ brother - _ugh_ - when I sold my freakin' soul to bring him back from the dead. I feel ya, vampire."

Damon's mouth gaped. All at once, he believed the hunter. Perhaps that Castiel-thing was an angel. _Why the hell would he choose to die for his freakin' brother? _Damon doubted he'd do the same for Stefan ... which unsettled him. But, there had been too many times in which he wished Stefan would die.

Damon grinned and held up his hands in mock-surrender, "Hey, no hard feelings, right? Just wanted to remind you who's the alpha species."

Dean chuckled in a harsh sort of manner, shrugging, "The true alpha doesn't feel the need to remind anybody with theatrics. They feel it when he stands."

He hissed after trying to straighten his back.

"Dean Winchester," Stefan took a cautious step forward with his hands up like Damon, "I'm sorry for whatever injuries you have sustained." He sliced into his wrist, "If you drink my blood, it will heal you in a matter of seconds -"

Just as Stefan was extending his wrist out to Dean, Sam opened the motel room door ... with a different gun. This wasn't the Colt. It was some kind of rifle designed to shoot wooden stakes.

"- After which you'll proceed to murder my brother, force human blood down his throat, and slave him to the night." Damon rolled his eyes, since that was the plan precisely, as Sam strutted forward, cocking the hunting rifle with multiple _click-clacks_, "You think that by turning Dean and I into one of you, we'll be reluctant to slay the sire of that bloodline? That we're worried about dying in order to achieve our goal? _Wrong_."

It was as though Sam had been listening at the motel room door.

Dean lifted his chin in a dominating sort of manner, "It would only make it easier to take down the bastard."

Stefan started to wonder if these Winchester brothers _ever_ let each other out of their sight. They couldn't be any closer if they were surgically attached at the hip. Stefan knew he'd never forget the memory of watching Dean Winchester leaping through the flames to get to his brother, not knowing if he was dead or alive. Stefan had a feeling it didn't matter to them. He glanced over at his own older brother, studying those blue eyes boiling with contempt.

He tried to recall that alien feeling of warmth when Damon stepped between Stefan and the hunter with the muzzle of the pistol aimed at him. It was such a lovely feeling ... if only it lasted longer. It was too fleeting to remember.

Sam glanced between Stefan and Damon, keeping a tight grip on the rifle, "I suggest you two leave the premises. Cas doesn't like vampires ... particularly the two of you."

Damon stepped around Stefan, "_This is going down whichever way you choose_ ... Dean," he quoted the hunter verbatim. "You can be good, giant bags of blood, and cooperate. _Or_ ... things'll have to get a tad bit messy."

Sam and Dean shared a look of amusement. Stefan watched them share that moment, "You don't take threats very seriously, I see."

Dean smiled down at him, "We get 'em so often, vampire, it's lost its potency."

"We think that, if you are to try 'changing's us, you're either reckless or stupid." Sam added.

Dean relented, "Last of which we didn't assume you were," he met Damon's piercing blue eyes, "_yet_."

Sam stretched his long arm around Dean's shoulders and steered him to the motel room door still open ajar. Just before the door was closed between them, Dean glared over his brother's thick lanky arm over to meet Damon's eyes. Even though they were about twelve feet from the door, Stefan could hear the Winchesters talking if he concentrated ... and he did.

Dean was saying under his breath to Sam, "If that Damon packs a punch like _that_ ... don't wanna think what getting tackled to the ground by Klaus must've been like. I should've done gone out instead of you, man. Sorry I let you out there."

Stefan glanced away from the door and watched Damon disappear into the nearby woods. He kept listening to the Winchesters conversation.

Dean winced when Sam squeezed his shoulders, "Better got some damn ice in that damn mini-fridge, Sammy."

Sam chuckled and patted Dean's shoulder gently, "That was what _you _went out to get, remember?"

"Got interrupted, _remember_?" Dean groaned and growled, "Son of a bitch!"

* * *

Damon strolled into the library of the Salvatore mansion with two glasses of blood, calling out to Stefan from across the room, "Can you take a break from moping around and staring out the rainy windows to have a drink? Come on, this is the blood of a drunk! Here's to failure!"

Stefan smiled halfheartedly, peering over at Damon chugging his glass of alcohol-tainted blood and reaching to refill it immediately. It took a lot of servings to get either of them drunk, Damon especially. Stefan, whom was sitting on a windowpane, looked back out the window.

"Can't wait to shut- up Dean Winchester!" Damon informed the back of Stefan's head, "That human's got a _mouth_ on him! Who does he think he is? Why does he think he can talk to _me _like he does? Can't wait to shut him up permanently! That stupidly-deep-gravelly voice of his! _Urgh_! Wonder if that 'angel' will stake me for smacking the jaw out of Dean? Would be doing a public service, anyway, right? _Stefan_? Can you at least _pretend_ to be listening -"

Stefan admitted slowly, carefully,"I know it was just part of the plan, that I was _supposed _to stop you anyway. But ... I didn't want you to kill them. I don't know why I felt that way ... but, I really did. That ... that _bond _they've got ... it's nothing I've seen before. Nothing I wanna get in the way of."

Stefan and Damon's eyes finally locked together, green to blue.

Damon scoffed over at him, "What're you talking about? They've gotta die, Stefan! It's us or them. What am I talking about? It's not _just _us, dude! Think about it, Stefan! It's the _entire_ vampire race relying on us. Don't make this personal -"

"Would you do it?" Stefan interrupted him quietly, knowing he didn't have to talk over Damon in order to be heard.

Damon raised his bold dark brows,"What, kill them? Yeah! If that 'angel' wasn't around to stop me, they'd be racing Alfréd Hajós in a lake of fire by now!"

Stefan frowned and shook his head, "What? The first Olympic swimming champion? Why would he be in hell - never mind!I was talking about jumping through a wall of fire! Would you sell your soul to bring me back from the dead?"

Damon was clearly caught off-guard, "What's gotten into you? What kinds of questions are those -"

Stefan stepped down from the windowpane,"Just answer them and I'll be done."

Damon glared at him and crossed the room, stopping just short of knocking him to the ground, "Here's the _real_ question, little brother: would you do any of that crap for _me_? You're a selfish dick, _too_, remember? In fact, you were one _first_. I would've been a pile of dust if you didn't shove a freakin' lady in my face."

Stefan's mouth hung agape, "I didn't want to be alone ... but, I got it anyway. Didn't I? I still lost my brother -"

Damon waved him away, his glare still fixed on Stefan, "Just shut-up, Stefan. Just shut-up. You're being stupid. What 'till I tell Alaric what you were saying. Maybe Bonnie can set you right again with some freakin' spell."

Stefan stared out the window, drowning-out Damon's drunken insults by focusing on the behavior between the Winchester hunters.

* * *

The morning sun peaked over the little woods across the street from the seedy motel. Sam squeezed his eyes shut from the rude awakening and groaned as he wrenched himself out of bed heavily. His back cracked as he straightened to his full height and reached for the bag of water, which had been full of ice when he fell asleep, sitting in a melted pool on the bedside table between the two beds.

Sam chuckled down at Dean's sleeping face, drooling on his pillow, "What am I going to do with you, man?"

He set it back in the mini fridge just as the sunlight reached Dean and woke him up, too.

"Shut those damn curtains, man!" Dean grumbled, sandwiching his face between his pillow and the stiff mattress, "Do it or feel my freakin' wrath -"

"You've always been such a 'morning person'," Sam mocked, laughing as he crossed the tight room to do as Dean so politely requested. "How're the ribs feeling now?"

Dean groaned, knowing at Sam was going to keep talking and not let him sleep, and sat up, rubbing his face as he lied, "Feels fine."

Sam looked at him doubtfully, "Hey, _I _still feel kinda sore after Cas touched me -"

Dean chuckled, " - naughty Cas -"

Dean had pale bruises marking where Damon had pinned his arms to the ground.

"- so, if you want something cold," Sam talked over him pointedly, "just say the word and I'll go out for a bag of frozen peas."

Dean's head shot up, suddenly wide-awake.

He shook his finger up at Sam, "Not with those freaks out there, you're not! For all we know, they're standing right outside our door waitin' to pounce on us, big guy. Damon's got an eye out for us the most. He's the one I think we've gotta worry more about. Little Stefan seems to be a bit of a softy."

Dean's protective nature always flared-up whenever Sam got hurt. Sam had a feeling it would take a day or so for Dean to calm down again. Knowing all too well that arguing against it was futile, Sam relented.

"Fine," he sighed as he sank down greatly onto the foot of his bed, "But, since you're feeling so much better, clean up that mess you made on that table there."

"That's what maids are for, dude!" Dean argued childishly.

With a significant look from Sam, though, Dean got to his feet to fetch a wad of toilet paper to mop up the little pool dripping from the nightstand down to the carpeted floor. Sam heard a rustling behind him and saw that a folded piece of paper had been slipped underneath it.

As Sam got to his big feet again, he reminded Dean as he crossed the room to pick up the note, "'Softies' can have a violent side, too, Dean."

While Dean recalled being on the receiving-end of Sam's brute strength, Sam unfolded the letter, scanning the beautiful handwriting scrawled across it:

_Sam Winchester, we need to compromise. Despite what you and your brother may believe, I have people I care about dearly. People that I don't want to lose. People I've grown to be willing to kill for and to die for. No one ever 'reached their goal' without making a few sacrifices, after all. _

_- Stefan Salvatore_


	6. The Recruit

"This is gonna get ugly, man." Sam told Dean as he sank down onto the foot of his ruffled bed.

"Only if you let it, Sam." said Dean. While knelt at the nightstand, mopping up the water residue, Dean squinted over his shoulder, "What're you even talkin' about?"

Sam stretched his long arm out to hand Dean the note, "It's from Stefan."

"Oh, we're calling the things by their _names_ now?" Dean rolled his eyes as he took the letter without care.

Dean had called the black-haired vampire 'Damon'. But, that was out of avoiding another confrontation. Listening to his own brother talk about the vampires like they're human made his throat constrict. It made him remember all the times Sam sided with monsters. Perhaps Dean was overreacting. But, it was so tough for Dean to ignore their past.

Sam waited a little while for Dean to read Stefan's note before elaborating, "Think about it, Dean. These 'things' have lives, too -"

"They're _monsters_, Sammy. It's as simple as that." Dean insisted angrily, pressing Stefan's note onto the damp table, balling it up, and chucking it successfully into the trash bin on the opposite end of the room. When Sam stared at the trash bin, Dean rolled his eyes, "Sam, I thought you were past this. We're monster-killers, dude, not their freakin' _friends_. Do I need to remind you how you gettin' 'friendly' with monsters always ends?"

Sam sighed and scowled over at Dean, ignoring the last question, "I don't have to enjoy it."

"Hey, whatever floats your boat." Dean shrugged and groaned as he got to his feet, "Just as long as you're by my side when the trigger has to be pulled."

Sam joined his brother at their duffel bags to begin getting dressed to go out, "Yeah, Dean, you know I will."

"Just checkin'."

Sam watched Dean for a moment, "Do you think it'll help to figure out who these 'loved ones' are of Stef - the _vampire_'s?"

Dean furrowed his brows, "What - to keep them out of the way when all the crap hits the fan?"

"We could find out more about this species of vampires," Sam coaxed Dean masterfully. "It could help trap Klaus again."

Dean squinted quizzically up into Sam's innocent hazel eyes and said after a few uncomfortable moments, "Fine. We'll go into town. Ask around."

* * *

Miles away in Chicago, Illinois, Katherine Pierce was returning to her hotel suite at the Ritz Carlton after a long night of club hopping. She was wearing a skintight black Neiman Marcus party dress, the hem of which ended high above the knees of her mile-long legs, and embellished Jimmy Choo heels. The bodice of the dress was mesh, hiding her well-endowed cleavage only by a golden metallic baroque cut-out. Katherine flopped down onto her lavish bedcovers and fished her cell phone out of her cleavage. Katherine smirked at the name of the vampire who had called her eleven times in the last two hours, bitting her lower lip as she clicked 'SEND'.

"Is this not the younger of the two-lovesick-Salvatores-who-never-learn-from-their -mistakes?" She drawled seductively.

She laughed openly when she heard Stefan's frustrated tone, "I've been calling you for hours!"

"How could I not notice? You were jiggling between my lovely lady lumps," Katherine giggled before her grin slid off knowingly, snapping waspishly, "What do you want?"

Damon was about twelve feet away from Stefan in his bedroom. But, due to him being a vampire, he could still listen to their conversation.

Damon chuckled, "To never hear your voice again."

Katherine's heavily mascaraed eyes narrowed, "Hard thing to do when you're pining after my shadow-self, Mr. Salvatore. What _is_ the status of the new little love triangle, anyway? My gossip flow has run dry -"

Stefan cut across her, "This is serious, Katherine. Rebekah has just been murdered."

Katherine sat up in a blur of speed, "_What_?! _How_?"

"She was shot by a pistol," Stefan sighed, setting his jaw.

Katherine's lip curled, sensing a trick, "What kind of a pistol can take-down an Original Vampire?"

Damon stoked the flames struggling in his fireplace, "A nifty one of the Winchesters'. We saw it go down ourselves. Well, sort-of."

Stefan elaborated, "It's a pistol owned by two men. Their names are Sam and Dean Winchester. According to Alaric, they're extremely dangerous hunters. Dangerous enough for him to have heard about. Dangerous enough for him to fear for us all. He thinks they can really bring about a vampire genocide!"

Katherine slipped off her silky bedsheets and strutted into her expansive bathroom, "Never liked the bitch. Remind me to send those two boys a bouquet. Do you think they'd prefer tulips or roses -?"

Stefan interrupted her drawling once more, "They're going after all of the Originals, Katherine. We need you to come back to town. If Klaus gets killed, we'll all die. You turned Damon and I into vampires. Somewhere down the line, Klaus sired the blood crusting in your veins. If the Winchesters succeed, we're all done for. "

Katherine remained unconvinced, her mouth still gaped in disbelief that Rebekah has been killed.

Damon was losing patience and zoomed to Stefan's side, "Come on, they're _brothers_! How much better can it get for you? Isn't this your 'type'? You've got such charming ways of tearing brothers apart, remember? Or are you all out of practice? It _has_ been a century 'n a half, after all -"

Stefan waved at Damon irritatedly, mouthing 'shut-up'. Damon merely shrugged and then sneered knowingly at his little brother.

Stefan warned Katherine, "They've also got a third man with them. He has special - um - 'gifts', for lack of a better word. Don't attack _either_ of the Winchesters. This man is strong enough to subdue Klaus. We'd all be a pile of burning ashes if Damon and I didn't interrupt them."

Damon slinked away, walking over to his bathroom as he snaked out of his shirt for a bath, "It was Klaus's army of hybrids that _really_ sent the Winchesters disappearing on us, Stefan. We can't take all the freakin' credit."

Katherine raised her voice, feeling forgotten, "I'm still waiting to hear what there is for me to gain by risking setting foot in that muggy town again -"

"How about your freakin' life?" Damon then hissed under his breath while pulling his belt of the loops of his jeans, "Dumb slut."

"I heard that," Katherine spat. She then sighed in defeat, "I can see that I have no other option. I'll see what I can do, Stefan. As long as you keep Klaus distracted, I will make a pit-stop in Mystic Falls. But, as soon as he's had his fill of your bromance, I'm out of there!"

* * *

Sam and Dean prowled the sidewalks and town square of central Mystic Falls for an hour before taking a seat on a bus bench.

"_Well_," Dean sighed in a fed-up manner, "I don't know about you. But, if I hear the name 'Elena Gilbert' one more time ... I'm dialing 9-1-1 and handing Stefan in for pedophilia."

Sam slouched in the bench, "He's technically seventeen, Dean. They're not doing anything illegal -"

"He's 'technically' over a hundred and fifty years old! If not pedophilia, it's necrophilia! Or freakin' bestiality! Either way, it's wrong and it makes me sick." Dean curled his lips in disgust. "Should we go meet this infamous jailbait?"

Sam frowned as his cell phone vibrated in the back pocket of his jeans, "Been a while since someone called me."

"Figured your phone _died_," Dean suddenly guffawed, taking Sam by surprise, "from you farting on it that night. Remember that night, Sammy?"

"You're so immature sometimes, Dean." Sam grumbled, blushing brightly, as he frowned at the number flashing on the display screen of his cell phone. "Hmm, it's not in my contacts."

"Answer it," Dean told him out of curiosity. "Maybe it's another case."

Sam clicked the 'SEND' button and held the phone to his ear, "This is Sam Winchester. Who's calling?"

"Elena Gilbert," said a small voice from the opposite receiver. "I am texting you my address. I need to speak with you and your brother."

* * *

Elena Gilbert was barely a legal adult with dark hair she had flat-ironed into curtains as straight as a ruler on either side of her gentle face. Her large dark eyes were adorned with long and think lashes. Her thin lips were plainly glossed. She didn't appear to be wearing much make-up at all. She wore a tight navy Henley, dark jeans that flared at her ankles, and converse sneakers.

Alaric Saltzman, once her guardian, had warned her the day before about the death of Rebekah and who had done the deed they had once believed impossible. Elena didn't need Alaric to elaborate. She knew the Winchesters were going after the whole Mikaelson family. This meant that Stefan and Damon's days were numbered. Inviting the dangerous hunters into her home was a huge risk. She had never met them before.

But, Alaric made it sound like the Winchesters were invested in preserving mankind. Instinctively, she felt as though she had few to no reasons to fear the brothers personally. Elena was average in height, hardly ever needing to stand on her toes to kiss Stefan ... or Damon, for that matter. Elena waited impatiently for the Winchesters to arrive, sitting on the edge of her sofa in the living room. Her heels were bouncing anxiously, tossing her little cell phone between her hands absentmindedly.

Elena gasped when she heard the doorbell ring and vaulted over the couch to answer it. Two men well over six feet tall stood on the other side of the door. The tallest one's head could almost brush the top of the doorframe. Elena could tell that the brothers were either in their thirties or close to it. Elena felt her throat constrict and her cheeks flush when she realized she had been starring at them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect -"

"Me to be so big?" Dean winked down at her. "I get that a lot."

Sam stepped out from behind Dean and held out his hand for her to shake, "I'm Sam. This is my brother, Dean."

The sincerity in Sam's hazel eyes was infective. Elena couldn't help but immediately feel safe as those eyes appraised her.

Elena took his hand and shook Dean's afterwards, "Thank you for stopping by. The kitchen is this way. Follow me."

The floorboards creaked ominously as the two men stepped over the threshold and continued to creak here and there as they followed the teenage girl into her kitchen.

Stopping Sam from sitting on the barstool once they arrived in the pristine kitchen, Dean warned him playfully, "You break it, you buy it, Sammy."

"Shut-up," Sam grumbled, long-past feeling embarrassed by his giant size, and took the seat anyway.

Dean rarely made jabs about Sam's height, preferring to ignore it. Usually, it was the demons and monsters that bullied him for it. Out of the circumstances of Dean being older than him, Sam figured his big brother would rather deny the fact's existence.

Elena served them two glasses of lemonade, observing nervously, "Looks like sibling-bickering never dies-out, huh?"

Dean beamed across the island table at her, gesturing at Sam with a tilt of his head, "_He_ wishes."

Sam cleared his throat curtly before taking a polite sip of lemonade.

Elena sighed, breaking the awkward silence, but, still beating around the bush, "I have a little brother, too. His name's Jeremy. I come down hard on him sometimes."

Sam grinned down at her, drying his mouth on the back of his large hand, "It's alright. Sometimes, little brothers need guidance."

Dean clapped Sam on the back, "So, we got your boyfriend's love letter this morning -"

Elena pursed her lips and corrected in him quietly, "He's not my boyfriend anymore."

Both Sam and Dean said in unison, "Huh."

Dean shrugged, "Sorry, just figured you were because of - well - how he talked about his - er - 'loved ones'."

"It didn't take much asking around to find out who those people were," Sam added, sitting straighter in his stool, "Your name came up the most."

"Almost to a Twilight-obsessed number of times," Dean chuckled humorlessly.

Elena sighed, "So, you found me. But, I already know what's going on," she looked for a moment as though she was disgusted by what she was about to say, "You can't kill Klaus." When Sam and Dean didn't react, she raised her brows, "You don't look surprised."

Dean leaned closer to her, "It's just ... we've run into your type before."

Elena looked taken aback, offended, "My 'type'?"

Sam groaned quietly as Dean plowed on, "About a year ago, we were investigating a vampire attack. Let's just say, we got a little deep in the vampire subculture that is unfortunate to exist."

Elena nodded begrudgingly, "I didn't choose to fall in love with him ... or Damon." Sam and Dean exchanged looks that clearly said '_what a slut_' while Elena continued defensively, "But, I did ... and I_ still _am. If you kill Klaus, I'll lose both of them. Many people in town have been lost since vampires came returned. But, Stefan and Damon _aren't_ who you think they are -"

"I think the proper term is '_what_' we think they are, sweetheart." Dean corrected her, "Not 'who'. When they got turned, they became monsters. They've killed and fed off of countless people for years -"

"People can change!" Elena argued helplessly.

"They're _not_ people, miss Gilbert." Sam finally chimed in, giving her the full effect of his empathetic expression again. Ignoring Dean's look of approval, Sam plowed on, "No matter how much time you may spend with Damon and Stefan, it doesn't change what they've done all these years."

Dean swallowed, "I was a vampire for a short period of time, Elena, and I'll never forget how much I wanted to end my life. I didn't want to be a monster."

Elena raised her eyebrows, "I don't believe you. There's no cure for vampires."

"Unfortunately, the cure for the vampires that we _typically _deal with is like a nuke for _your_ species of vampires. I was freed when I killed the sire of my bloodline," Dean explained. "Well, it was a bit more complicated than just killing the ass-hat. But, I was back to being human in no time. Good as new."

Sam cleared his throat and moved to a stool closer to Elena, "In a sense, we'll be freeing your friends, too. Yes, they'll die. But, on the bright side, they won't be monsters anymore." Sam glanced between her disdainful dark eyes, "Can you understand where I'm coming from?"

Elena glared between Sam and Dean calculatingly, "I can see that you've been brainwashed into seeing the world so black and white. I can't change your minds. But, I can ask you to leave my house."

Sam and Dean had not expected any other reaction.

Dean got to his feet first, as though he had been waiting for her to say the word, "Goodbye, Elena Gilbert. I expect we'll meet again soon."

Sam remained still for a bit longer before he straightened himself up with a little difficulty, "Our friend, Cas, may come to visit you. Maybe he'll make more headway than we can -"

"Don't hold your breath," said Elena, sliding off the stool and escorting them to the front door.

Sam sighed, "Just don't be alarmed if he appears out of nowhere."

"He does it all the time," Dean smiled. "It's his normal."

Elena unlocked the door and glared at the backs of the Winchesters till they were in their Impala and backing out of her driveway.


	7. Angel in the Arsenal

The next day, feeling distinctly like a child whose parents slapped her hand away from a cookie, Elena shrunk beneath Stefan and Damon's mutinous glares.

"What were you thinking, Elena?" Stefan asked her with an air of trying to reason with someone with no common sense. "Now that they've seen you, Katherine has no chance of making any headway with the Winchesters!"

"You're bringing _Katherine _in on this? Before even telling _me_?" Elena asked, clearly stunned and affronted.

"I don't think there was much '_thinking_' going on, Stefan." said Damon as he bounced agitatedly on his heels.

Elena squinted her eyes up at him, "You're mad at me for trying to talk the hunters out of killing the both of you?"

"The Winchesters have had multiple opportunities to kill Damon and I, Elena." Stefan shook his head, "They haven't. You have nothing to worry about. Right, Damon?"

Damon's taut arms coiled across each other, sitting on his bulging abs, "I'm still registering this information, man. We're gonna have to warn Katherine about this huge Elena-mishap. You _invited _those gigantic freaks into the house?"

"They're not vampires, Damon." Elena shrugged, "They don't need an invitation like you do. Regardless, I believe I've established a ... 'rapport' with the Winchesters."

This was a lie, for Elena was dreading ever facing the two hunters again. She was certain that they would jump at the chance to convert her to their side. But, Elena was still reluctant to face the tall strangers again.

Stefan's bushy brows rose, "A '_rapport_'? Elena, you're lucky they didn't -"

"Didn't _what_, Stefan? They want to wipe you all out to save the human race. They made that glaringly clear!" Elena interrupted him viciously, "As I am human, albeit a doppleganger, they don't want to harm_ me_. I was perfectly safe -"

"'_Safe_'? Didn't your parents teach you _anything_ about not talking to strangers?" Damon curled his lip, the mutinous glare fixed behind his electrifying blue eyes. "Alaric should _ground_ you!"

"I'm eighteen, Damon. I can make my own decisions -"

Damon strutted till he was inches from her face, "Why do they always have to be dumb ones? The world isn't split into vampires - bad guys - and humans - good guys! In case you've forgotten, there's bad guys on _both_ sides! Meeting two grown men you've never, well, _met _before is _beyond_ stupidity! They _could've_ hurt you -!"

"They didn't!" Elena whimpered defensively as Damon's nose brushed hers.

He had gotten so close.

Damon growled, "They _could've_! If anything happened to you, I would've -"

Stefan frowned and grabbed Damon's bicep, "_Alright_, Damon, that's enough. I think she's learned the lesson. Back it up."

Damon glanced at Stefan's hand before shaking a finger at Elena, taking one step back, hissing, "_Bad, bad girl_."

Elena stared quizzically at Damon. Though Damon's temper had flared and it had sent chills down her spine, she knew that his non-beating heart was in the right place. It wasn't the first time Damon had frightened her ... nor the worst time.

Elena took a deep breath, "What do you want to do about them?"

Stefan nodded, "Well, we can't kill them. They've got an angel."

"An _angel_?" Elena repeated him breathlessly, "A _real_ angel?"

Damon smirked, "Of course not! He's probably just some Hulk-like-witch. Stefan, you're talking crazy-talk ... _again_."

Stefan knew Damon was referring to the previous night when Stefan was questioning the strength of their relationship.

"Were you there when Klaus tried to take the angel out? Did you not see that Klaus couldn't make a dent in the guy?" Stefan rounded on Damon defensively. When Damon shrugged agreeably, Stefan nodded, "I thought so." He turned back to Elena, "Alright, we're not a hundred percent sure what the guy is exactly. But, if Klaus can't kill him ... neither can us."

"Hate to interrupt," said a drawling voice echoed from the foyer.

Simultaneously, Stefan and Damon twirled about to see Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus's older brother, standing in the front door frame. Dressed impeccably in an expensive dark trench coat and black dress pants, Elijah strode inside the Gilbert house and halted just short of the wary group in the kitchen.

To the Salvatores' mutinous glares of warning, Elijah nodded solemnly, "I have no intention of dueling with either of you. I wouldn't stoop to accept a 'challenge' from such young vampires. I come in peace."

Damon cocked his brows, "Hasn't stopped you in the _past_. I'm _still_ picking lead out of my jugular -"

"_Elijah_!" Elena breathed, wedging her way out from behind the brothers to greet the Original, "I am so sorry about Rebekah. I just heard yesterday."

She had not seen Elijah Mikaelson ever since Stefan disappeared. His sudden reappearance had startled her. He was the most affable and gentle of the Orignals, at least towards her wellbeing as of late. His internal drive had been to reunite with his siblings, excluding Klaus. Elijah's code of honor and nobility were thrown to the wayside when Klaus offered him just that ... costing Elijah his life in the end.

Elena could not begrudge the old vampire for turning against them all for such an irresistible offer on the night of the _doppelgänger_ sacrifice. Evidently, Klaus has freed him after all.

"I know that your condolences are founded on nothing but your polite upbringing, as you loathed my late sister. But, I shall take them in nontheless," Elijah bowed his head then looked down on the Salvatores, "I believe I interrupted at the part where you were discussing this ... this _creature_ these hunters have in their arsenal." Stefan and Damon exchanged a look while Elijah sunk down onto the arm of the couch in the living room, looking like a Great White shark eyeing a pair of seals, "Don't stop on my account. Please, continue."

Stefan gently coaxed Elena back to a stool at the island in the kitchen while she asked Elijah, "Why are you even here? I thought Klaus -"

"These hunters have thus far proven themselves to be worthy of reverence -"

Damon sneered and scoffed, "'Reverence'? They're just a pair of Neanderthals -"

"If their superior height intimidates you, Damon, I can easily rectify that." Elijah rolled his eyes.

Elena's hand subconsciously rubbed her neck at Elijah's threat, "I've only met the Winchesters. I haven't met Castiel. But, they just told me that I might -"

Elijah turned to Stefan, acting as though he had not heard Elena at all, "The creature, Stefan Salvatore. Tell me about him."

Stefan squeezed Elena's shoulder comfortingly before elaborating begrudgingly, "He is stronger than Klaus. No matter what he did, the angel - er, _creature_ - retained the upper hand. It appears that he can't be killed -"

Elijah shook his head, smirking, "Klaus informed me about the contraption that this Castiel subdued him with. He said that they reconstituted into cone-shaped weapons just as he was freed. I get the feeling that these weapons can have more than an effect on Castiel. I believe that they can kill the creature. Without Castiel, the Winchesters will no longer be a threat -"

It was Damon's turn to smirk, "You're forgetting something, Elijah." Damon's confidence shrunk a level when Elijah's dark eyes turned to him slowly, "The revolver. The gun that killed Rebekah -"

"When we kill Castiel, I'm sure the Winchesters have never aimed at a moving target like ourselves," Elijah shrugged, obviously undeterred by their predicament.

Stefan and Damon, however, could not look less reassured if they tried.

* * *

Elena fished her bra out from underneath her shirt and folded it neatly on her dresser with a sigh of relief. Her straightened hair was parted sloppily atop her head. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt that her brother, Jeremy, had outgrown and plaid drawstring pants. Elena gripped the countertop of her dresser and eyed her own reflection. After much retelling and examining of the night Rebekah was killed, Elijah finally left the Salvatore brothers and Elena, presumably to return to the Mikaelson mansion with his newly acquired intel.

Stefan and Damon were far more difficult to kick out of the house. In truth, Elena would love to have them stay. But, seeing their forced looks of reassurance were just reminders of the new threat that hung over them. It wasn't till Alaric came home and reminded the brothers of his father-like role in Elena's life. Though Damon challenged it for a bit, which Elena thought was just for his own amusement to quell the tension, he eventually was persuaded out the door along with Stefan.

They had been especially concerned about calling-off Katherine's pursuit of the Winchesters, as Elena had unintentionally foiled that plan. Due to their borderline-racist view of anything supernatural, it was now next to impossible for the vampire to have a chance at seducing them. Elena expected that the Salvatores were at the Mikaelson mansion right this minute, simultaneously trying to get Katherine to answer her phone to warn her. If she was still going through with the original plan, Katherine needed to be kept safe from Klaus's vengeful grip.

Elena staggered over to her bed in the dark and dropped herself atop her throw pillows. She hugged one to her face and stared into space in the direction of her digital alarm clock. A minute or two past ... and the bold red numbers of the clock disappeared with a sharp noise of scratchy static. Elena heard Jeremy groan from the room beyond their adjoined bathroom, cursing that he had lost internet connection.

Elena smiled, "_Wonderful_. The power's out."

"I apologize about that," came a guttural and unfamiliar voice from the bench at her window.

Elena twisted around and scrambled off her bed at the sight of the stranger sitting there, landing on the hardwood floor with a resounding crash. The man, possibly in his thirties, had short dark hair, crystal blue eyes, pale clean-shaven skin, and was marginally smaller than Dean Winchester. He was dressed in a light trench coat, belted black dress pants, a black jacket beneath the trench coat covering a white shirt, and a blue tie. The man looked alarmed by her reaction and was on his feet just as Elena started to scream.

"Who are you? _GET OUT_!" Elena scrambled to her feet, tripping on her overlong drawstring pants. "_Jeremy_! _Rick_!"

The man gestured to Elena's bed ... Elena gasped. There she was, fast asleep on top of her blankets.

Her chest still heaving beneath her thin shirt, Elena gasped, "_How _- am I _dead_?"

The man shook his head once, eyeing her quizzically, "Sam told me you were 'quick on the uptake' ... I took it that he meant that the pair of you shared a similarly high I.Q. -"

Elena's large eyes were still wide with fear, "I'm _dreaming_?"

"It was Dean's idea for us to meet whilst you were unconscious," the man's lips almost twitched into a smile, thinking of his friend fondly. "He didn't want a repeat of our first meeting."

Comprehension dawning behind those chocolate orbs, Elena pointed at the man, "You're Castiel? Sam and Dean's friend? You're the one Klaus couldn't fight?"

Castiel nodded, "I am an angel of the Lord ... and you are the latest _doppelgänger_." Feeling like she was being probed, Castiel eyed her even more invasively, "You gave your virginity to the undead murderous creature, Stefan Salvatore. You harbor private thoughts about his brother, Damon, with utmost discretion." Elena's eyes widened as Castiel went on, "But, I can also see that you _once_ had faith ... and that it progressively decayed with the death of your mother and father."

Elena furrowed her brows, "I still celebrate Christmas - wait, did you say you're an angel?" Starting to take solace that this was a dream, Elena's breathing steadied, "Prove it."

Castiel drew himself up straighter, "It saddens me a great deal that faith has lost its strength of heart. So few today can go on without 'proof'."

With that, there was a explosion of thunder, a blinding flash of lightning, and Elena gapped at the sight of gargantuan black swan-like wings unfurling from behind Castiel's broad shoulders. At their fullest extent, they filled Elena's bedroom. Elena's knees buckled beneath her at the sight of them and she slipped down to the floor. Elena had lost her interest in religion after losing her parents in a devastating car crash. But, in her heart, remnants of faith still drove her unfailing morals and kept her sturdy as the world as she knew it evolved.

Seeing Castiel instigated the dusting off of those old memories. The angel closed the distance between them and, after a moment of hesitation, gently tilted Elena's chin upward to face him.

"Don't be afraid," Castiel's deep voice embraced her, "I am not here to harm you -"

Her dark eyes sparkling with frightful tears, Elena choked out, "My brother?"

"Not him, not you, nor that man steadily impeding his liver with Bourbon down in your kitchen," Castiel shook his head, "Please, have a seat with me."


	8. Damon's Deal

Damon wrinkled his nose in disgust, "_Ick_! Nothing worse than the stench of burning flesh."

He reeled his head back from where he had been peeking between the massive double front doors of the Mikaelson mansion. The moment the door was carefully pulled outward, a gust of something repulsive filled their nostrils. Rebekah had been killed a few days ago, but, the place wreaked as though it had happened only seconds previously.

Stefan watched Damon wretch dramatically for a few seconds, hissing to him in a voice barely a whisper, "Katherine's still not answering me, Damon. Maybe she's ditched the plan. Maybe we should go back to Elena -"

"What's the point of having the damn thing if the skank ignores it? The most unreachable socialite in all of history," Damon snarled over Stefan's last few words as he stepped in through the front door. "A deals a deal, right, Stefan? "

Stefan knew Damon was referring to when he had made a deal with Klaus for the cure to Damon's werewolf bite. He bowed his head for a moment, sliding his thin phone into the back pocket of his saggy jeans, setting the ringtone to _vibrate_ as he did so.

Damon scoffed after Stefan didn't reply, "If you're too chicken, you can wait outside."

Stefan knew Damon's feelings would be hurt if Stefan abandoned him now, even if he'd never admit it aloud. Stefan gazed upon the massive entryway, imagining the wall of fire and that his brother was on the other side in danger. Knowing whom lurked inside the mansion, Stefan felt like following his older brother inside was the equivalent of what Dean risked for Sam. Damon glanced furtively over his shoulder while holding the door open for Stefan to step inside. Damon and Stefan fell into step, walking as quietly as they could side by side.

Damon's ears picked up the soothing rythymn of crackling flames. He looked into Stefan's eyes and knew his brother could hear it, too. Damon he silently ordered Stefan to one side of the double staircase and took the other side for himself.

"_This place gives me the creeps_," Damon mouthed over to Stefan as they reached the top of the staircases.

His attempt to create a smile on Stefan's lips was successful. Although, Stefan did not dare laugh. The brothers converged and crept down the corridor, the sound of the fire growing louder with each step they took. Stefan wasn't entirely sure why they were breaking into the mansion instead of making themselves known. But, he didn't know what kind of emotional state Klaus must be in now since the death of his sister.

Klaus was an unstable megalomaniac, but, he must go through the five stages of grief like the rest of the world. He was evil, but, he wasn't without emotion. His feelings could be hurt. Near the end of the corridor, there was a bend leading to another staircase.

Stefan laid a hand on the banister, daring to whisper, "Klaus's _room_ must be up there."

Damon nodded and touched a finger to his lip, "That's where the fire's coming from."

It was also where the stench of Rebekah's burnt body was the strongest. Stefan and Damon nodded together and ascended the last staircase in all of the mansion. There was only one door at the top ... and it was left ajar. The golden shadow of the flames from the fireplace were dancing ominously in the crack between the door and the frame. The Salvatore brothers took a simultaneous deep breath and pushed the door open.

The first set of eyes they met belonged to Elijah. His dark eyes looked upon them with cold indifference. Damon furrowed his brows as he noticed tear tracks on the eldest of the Original family's cheeks. There was another vampire in the room, watching the licking flames dancing in the fireplace as though he were hypnotized. Kol Mikaelson was Elijah in miniature, although he was taller than the Salvatores by about an inch.

When Elijah said nothing, Stefan was first to step over the threshold. Klaus was at the farthest end of the master bedroom with his back to all of the vampires there. He was wearing a similar black coat to Elijah's and he was hunched over an elaborately designed urn.

Klaus did not look up till Stefan was as close as he dared, asking darkly with his voice cracking, "Why are _you _here?"

Damon halted a few feet behind Stefan, mocking the hybrid, "It's _still_ customary in this era to offer condolences after the death of a ... 'loved' one. Even the pathetic ones get them -"

In a blur of speed, Klaus twisted around and Stefan's head was wiped back as Klaus's fist cracked in an upward-angled strike, snapping the vampire's neck. The sound caught Kol's attention and he joined Elijah in the audience. It was an alarming switch from Klaus's apparent indifference when he showed his brothers what was left of Rebekah's body. He had been in the denial phase of grieving. Now, however, he was fully in the following stage: anger. The sheer force of the Original hybrid's blow made Stefan's head spin one hundred and eighty degrees.

Although his chest was on the floor, his head was facing skyward. His hazel eyes starred at nothing, his mouth wide open because of his shattered jaw. Damon barely had more than a second to react before Klaus's fists were pelting towards him. He knew Stefan would eventually heal and could walk away from this attack as long as his heart remained intact. But, that didn't ease the shock of seeing his little brother splayed so grotesquely on the hardwood floor.

Even Elijah and Kol seemed startled by Klaus's explosion of fury, Elijah more so than Kol. Klaus was snarling throatily, too similar to a rabid wolf. Blood and saliva was dripping from his barred canines. Crimson veins were pulsing all around his golden eyes, wrinkled into wicked slits in his blind fury. Damon dodged one blow, but, wasn't quick enough for the follow up. Klaus's clenched fist sent Damon rocketing across the room.

His body crumbled in the dent he created in the wall and he flopped down to the cold floor. His elbows, collarbone, and shins were broken. He could not run away as Klaus sped over to finish him off, not taking care to miss his fingers as the hybrid skidded to a halt.

"_HOW DARE YOU CALL MY SISTER PATHETIC_!" Klaus roared as he sent a fist down to Damon's head.

Damon rolled out of the way, but, Klaus pulled him back. Damon croaked Stefan's name weakly as he was dragged back by the waistband of his pants. This time, the hybrid's fist could not be avoided.

Damon choked, blood dripping out the corners of his lips, starring wide-eyed up at Klaus as Klaus screamed at the top of his deep voice, "IT'S BECAUSE OF _ME_ YOU'RE STILL ALIVE! _YOU_ ARE THE PATHETIC ONE! AND I NEED YOU NO LONGER!"

As Klaus's clawed fingers pierced Damon's chest, breaking a few ribs, Damon gurgled, "N-n-_no_! Stop! I'll get the gun for you! I'll get the gun! Stop! I'll get it -"

His pleads were silenced as Elijah's foot pressed on the side of his thin face, "We _could _send this one to get the weapon, Klaus. We need not risk any more of our lives to stop these hunters."

Klaus's bloodshot golden eyes joined Damon's crystal blues starring up at Elijah. After a few seconds in which Klaus gazed up at Elijah, still trembling with rage, Elijah nodded and laid his full weight on Damon's neck, breaking his spine. Klaus appeared to relax for a moment, then he crossed the room over to Stefan and sank his fangs into Stefan's neck.

* * *

Sam and Dean sighed as they set themselves on stools at the counter inside the bar. Sam no longer ached from the hybrid's retaliatory attack. He sat with his broad shoulders back and opened his plastic container of Caesar salad with a faint _pop_. Dean never got tired of teasing Sam about his diet.

Dean winked at the barmaid, "A whiskey for me and ...," he grinned up at Sam's mouth full of lettuce, "Can we get a sippy-cup of orange juice for the big guy -?"

He winced as Sam's large knuckles jabbed his ribs.

Sam blushed down at the old barmaid, "A whiskey for me, too."

Sam's grin slipped away in less than a second when the barmaid left to fetch them their drinks, turning to scowl mutinously down at his big brother.

Dean chuckled, leaning on his elbow with his free hand on his bowed knee, "You wanna be healthy, right? I'm just doing my part in supporting my baby brother -"

"Screw you," Sam grumbled as the barmaid returned with two bottles of _Johnny Labinsky's Kentucky Whiskey_.

Dean nodded the nozzle of his whiskey at Sam, "Cheer's to failure!"

Sam watched Dean's cheerful wrinkles conform to their usual stone, "We can still get it done, Dean. Stop rushing yourself -"

"What if I _want_ it rushed? If his damn freakin' monster-servants didn't come when they did, we _could_ be in Times Square right now." Dean took a very long gulp of whiskey. "This job would be over. Now, you got Stefan's stupid love letter. You're gonna let it get more damn complicated than it has to be."

Sensing a temper tantrum cooking in Dean's head, Sam cocked his brows before taking a sip from his bottle, "Times Square, huh? Why you wanna go there?"

"I need a vacation, Sammy, like ... _yesterday_. That's how soon I need one," Dean sighed, giving him a small smile because he knew Sam was forestalling an argument.

They could never function as a team without being on the same page. Dean finished off his whiskey and raising his hand to call the waiter over to make his dinner order ... along with a refill. Sam dropped his hand to check that his flask of Vervain water was still in his pocket inside his jacket. He then glanced furtively over his shoulder while typing a message into his cell phone. He kept his eyes on a tall, olive skinned young woman with rib-length dark curls as he turned the screen of his phone for Dean to read his message: _the vampire doppelganger is here__._

Castiel had foretold them of the doppelgänger curse that was tied into the birth of this strange vampire species.

Dean groaned, "Come on, man, let me eat my freakin' food first. I'm starved."

"Eat fast, 'cause it's not a coincidence that she's in the same bar as us." Sam whispered as Dean's hamburger and French fries arrived.

Dean scowled up at Sam, "Can't fight with the hiccups, Sam. She won't try anything in a bar full of people. Relax, man. We're good."

Sam seemed to take solace, and humor, in that, "Yeah, worst thing she can do is hit on you."

"Dude, I don't do monsters." Dean said under his breath, sort of hoping Sam did not hear him.

The reluctant manner in which Sam resumed eating his salad told him otherwise. The five hundred year old vampire, Katerina Petrova, was a dolled up version of Elena Gilbert. But, they were the same down to the faint laugh lines. After a short flight from Chicago to the Virginia airport, Katherine Pierce scanned the crowd inside the bar just on the outskirts of Mystic Falls she had followed the Winchester brothers to. She was wearing a black high-low skirt, black heels, a crop top that ended at the high waistband of the skirt that did nothing to suppress her gifted cleavage, and dangly earrings. From a distance, Katherine judged these brothers to be over twice the size of Stefan or Damon.

In the case of Sam Winchester, double in width and triple in height.

"I'd climb that like a red wood," Katherine said under her breath, smirking to herself.

Like the jet she had taken that had descended, Katherine made a gradual lap around the two men in preparation to make a landing. Sam and Dean were busy satisfying their satiation with hamburgers, French fries, and a salad for the larger one. Katherine giggled openly at the sight of the giant hunter stooping over his bowl of leafy greens. As she passed them by for closer inspection, she noticed significant scaring and swelling of the men's pronounced knuckles - clear signs of seasoned fighters. Their low, gravelly voices would make chills encase her body if she were alive.

She situated herself at the window and ordered a chardonnay. When Sam Winchester glanced in her direction, she smiled demurely and batted her long lashes once before turning away.

She grinned smugly to herself, "Now, just wait for a nibble on my hook."

Katherine glanced over at the Winchesters whenever she thought they weren't looking. They were very handsome humans. Even though she was here with an ulterior motive, Katherine couldn't help but let herself form a crush on the pair of them. Dean seemed to be the unspoken leader of the pair, what with the way Sam followed him around in his wake. Whilst they were humans, the Salvatore brothers did not appear to have a leader for the other.

Although Damon was older, the leadership role never took his fancy. Sam seemed to challenge Dean's place a little, but, otherwise seemed content with his role. Katherine marveled at their giant stature. She wanted to feel the weight of their masculine muscles weigh down on her. Katherine groaned as her cell phone vibrated for the umpteenth time.

She abandoned her chardonnay and wedged her way over to the corner of the bar where the restrooms were, the better to hear whoever was calling her as that area was the quietest part of the bar.

The moment she clicked _SEND_ to answer her phone, Stefan's voice gargled almost inaudibly, "D-Don't have t-time. The W-Winchesters saw El-l-lena. Wherev-ver y-you are, g-g-get out."

Before Katherine could reply, the other end of the phone line went dead. Katherine was suddenly drowned in a towering shadow and felt something sharp press against her back. She froze as hot breath caressed her cheek, reeking of hamburger meat and onions.

"Get in the crapper. You won't like it when I start pushin', Petrova." Dean snarled in her ear, rolling the 'r' surprisingly well, as the stake in his hand scratched through Katherine's crop top.

* * *

The moonlight filtering through Elena's sheer red paisley curtains glowed in an outline around Castiel's body. Elena took his extended hand and he helped her to her feet without any effort. It was as though she were no heavier than a grain of sand to him. His hand felt soft and toasty warm. It was a comforting texture.

Castiel dropped his hand out of her grip and lead the way to the bench by her window. Elena sank down onto the padded cushions and hugged her knees to her chest, peering over them up into Castiel's curious blue eyes. Her lips parted as Castiel scooped up her journal from her dresser.

"You used to write in this," Castiel mused, running his thumb over the pages as they flipped rapidly from side to side. "Why have you stopped?"

Elena cleared her throat, "I guess it lost its appeal when I started to have only bad things to record."

Castiel nodded encouragingly, "Around the time Stefan Salvatore came back into your life, driven by a unyielding fetish he harbored for your likeness."

Elena's eyebrows raised, "He didn't really love Katherine like he loves me, Castiel. She Compelled him. He told me -"

"The vampire, Katerina Petrova," Castiel said her name so properly it took Elena by surprise, "did not ... 'Compel' Stefan Salvatore's love. She merely made it so that he no longer feared her as a monster. He adored her selfish manners and felt such gratification for being chosen to lend company to such a creature -"

Elena felt like he was voicing her old concerns, "Maybe you're right -"

"I am a celestial being. I know more than you do," Castiel nodded, standing while she remained seated.

"- but, people can change. He was only seventeen and he was manipulated by a very old vampire." Elena defended him as Damon came up in her mind's eye, "Damon, too, even if he was older."

Castiel was not deterred, "You've allowed your better judgment to be clouded by your affections towards these two vampires."

"It's not just Stefan and Damon anymore. My friend, Caroline, is a vampire by Damon's blood," Elena furrowed her brows, stopping herself from nodding in agreement, "If you kill Klaus, I will lose them all. Where would I be if it weren't for them? They've saved my life, Castiel."

Castiel tilted his head, "Do you think that no more harm will come to you as long and your family while this vampire species survives? Sam and Dean have a way to make them all disappear -"

"_Klaus_ killed my aunt," Elena shook her head, "Stefan tried to trade his life for hers. Doesn't that count for something to you? He's not a monster."

Castiel did not look away and continued nonplused, "That is most unusual. One good deed - _attempted _good deed - does not absolve a century of malicious sins."

Elena shrugged, "Damon and Stefan have dark sides. But, they're good sides outshine it all, making me blind to it. They are good people underneath all the mistakes they've made. Can you at least ask Sam and Dean to give them the chance to show this side of themselves?"

Castiel knelt down on one knee before her and Elena crossed her legs, batting her doe eyes down at him.

Castiel clicked his tongue sadly, "Only if you promise to try to refocus your compassion on your own species."

Elena tilted her head sadly, "I don't discriminate based on 'species', Castiel. I'm sorry, but, Stefan and Damon are closer to me than any humans have ever been. I won't abandon them."

Castiel bowed his head and Elena found herself staring at her alarm clock. She lifted her head from her pillow and blinked lazily around her bedroom. But, Castiel had vanished and the electricity was back on.

* * *

Damon coughed hoarsely as he came to, rolling himself over onto his belly and peering around the room while his vision cleared.

"St-Stefan?" he croaked, rubbing his aching neck.

As a pale blob came into focus, Damon stiffly dragged himself towards it. He gained speed as his broken arms and legs reconstituted themselves. He saw Stefan's head snap back into place and Damon gave a hearty chuckle.

"Com'on, you son of a bitch." Damon clapped Stefan on his shoulder.

Something wasn't right with Stefan. Though he had smiled at Damon, he looked like he was still in pain. His alabaster skin was peppered in beads of sweat and his eyelids were bruised around his hazel eyes. Damon tilted his head as Klaus stepped back into the bedroom, noticing two holes in Stefan's neck.

Stefan gagged like he was about to throw-up, "What is it?"

"A werewolf bite ...," Damon breathed disbelievingly.

He peered up over Stefan's spiky dark blond hair at Klaus who was glowering down at them from the doorway.

"What did you do to him, asshole?" Damon demanded, his voice cracking, as he helped Stefan to his feet.

Klaus was no longer wearing his dark coat. He was now in dark skinny jeans, a grey v-neck, and decorated with leather necklaces and bracelets.

Klaus's large lips pulled into a sneer, "While you were so _pathetically_ begging for your meaningless life, you made an offer to me that I did not want to waste." He held his hands together at the base of his back as he strutted into his bedroom. "Bring me the hunters' pistol ... and I'll give Stefan my blood. Fail ... and you'll understand full-well what it feels like to lose a sibling."


	9. The Axe of the Ex

Sam's expansive torso, aided by his dark grey utility coat, could almost hide Dean forcing Katherine Pierce into the restaurant restroom. Nevertheless, not one person in the restaurant took notice of the disturbing scene of what would appear to be a thirty-three year old man manhandling a seventeen year old girl to the untrained eye.

Sam fixed Katherine's head in a lock with his burly arms while Dean hovered the stake over her undulating breast. The moment his muscles stiffened around her head, Katherine suspected that Sam had strength that Dean did not. In her five hundred and twenty-two years of being a vampire, she had never experienced a human with _this_ much strength. She took a moment to breathe in his powerful musk ... Sam Winchester wasn't entirely human. Katherine gulped fearfully, mentally comparing Sam to Klaus, when Dean locked the door with an ominous _click_.

Katherine chuckled darkly, "Am _I_ the first girl to be the meat of a Winchester sandwich?" Her attempt to hide her worry worked. A flicker of insult shot across Dean's green eyes boring into hers. Katherine tilted her head between Sam's arms, puckering her lips.

Sam furrowed his brows and blinked over at his brother, "You know what, Dean? She's _not_ the first. This _does_ feel familiar, doesn't it?"

Dean sneered back at Katherine's cocky smile, "You're right, Sam. This is almost _exactly_ like the time we ganked Ruby."

Katherine laughed, "Well, let's all get comfortable. I've never objected to being ... 'taken' from behind."

"Sweetheart, we're a grown-ass men. Save batting your eyelashes for Justin Bieber ," Dean smirked humorlessly.

Katherine sauntered her shoulders, "I'm much ... _much_ older than I look."

Sam struggled to maintain a good grip on her, straining through clenched teeth, "Katerina Petrova - _ugh_ - born 1473. Turned 1492 by vampire Rose. The sire of Damon and Stefan Salvatore. How many more people have you wrecked, huh?"

Katherine smiled in relief at the realization that Sam was slaving to keep her subdued. _Perhaps she could overpower him if she tired him out_. She listened to his big heart pounding like the hoof beats of a charging stallion.

Katherine planted her heels firmly on the ground to straighten up, momentarily lifting Sam off his feet, "_Counting _the two of you? Let me think -"

There was a flash of brown and Katherine felt something slice across her high cheekbone. She cried out, touching the deep gash in her face from where Dean had slapped her with the wooden stake. Unbeknownst to the battle occurring in the bathroom, a man entered the restaurant wearing a leather hoodie. The hood was pulled up over his black hair, the bridge of his porcelein nose only visible when he lifted his head to acknowledge Katherine's scream. Several people in the restaurant turned to stare and the live band quieted as the struggle in the bathroom grew louder.

The man in the leather hoodie blurred black as he sped around the restaurant. With each person he past, their eyes glazed over and they turned to stare at the bathroom door. The vampire skidded to a halt at the bar and hoped onto the countertop, resting his elbows on his knees. He flinched to himself at the sound of Katherine crying. _The time to fight back was now or never_, Katherine told herself.

She leaned forward, pretending to be whimpering over her disfiguring wound ... then, in a flash of speed, she slammed Sam against the tiled wall of the bathroom. Sam impressed her when he held on, though his grip was weaker considerably.

"_Do it now, Dean_!" Sam gasped, grunting while redoubling his grip and yanking Katherine's head back.

Dean lunged and the stake penetrated Katherine's exposed skin, "This is for all the lives you've ruined -"

"NO!" Katherine screamed before Sam clapped his massive hand over her mouth.

This was all Stefan and Damon's fault. _Why had she listened to their plight? Why had no one in the restaurant heard the commotion coming from the bathroom? Why wasn't anybody coming to save her?_

Her dark eyes were darting between Dean's green as he drove the stake through her bloody flesh towards her heart, "On behalf of the world, I say _Doviʐdanye_!"

The wooden stake pierced her ancient and silent heart. As her tearful eyes closed one last time, Katherine's warm olive skin iced over a stony grey, her luscious dark curls hung limply, and her body collapsed lifelessly in Sam's arms. Sam and Dean stared at each other, breathing hard.

"Where did you learn Bulgarian?" Sam gasped, cradling Katherine's grey corpse in his long arms with an expression of disgust.

Dean grunted as he straightened his back with a few _pops_, "A stripper. Where else?"

Dean staggered when Sam dumped Katherine's body in Dean's reluctantly outstretched arms. A disturbing scene greeted them when Sam unlocked the bathroom door. The Winchester brothers were startled by the sight of every waiter, barmaid, and customer starring up at them. None of them were moving. Sam glanced warily over his shoulder down at Dean, whom was concealing Katherine's grey corpse behind Sam's broad back.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean whispered up at Sam, gazing around Sam's arm at the peculiar sight.

A man wearing a leather hoodie strode forward to greet them.

"You know what? I'm beginning to believe that you two _enjoy_ living a difficult life, Stretch." said Damon Salvatore as he revealed his face from beneath the leather hoodie.

Sam frowned as he noticed how desperate Damon looked. He looked like he was steeling himself to do something. He looked like a first-time bungee-jumper.

"Rough night for you, too?" Dean scoffed, noticing Damon's change in demeanor as well.

Damon rolled his electric-blue eyes, curling his lip aggressively, "Where is that damn gun?"

* * *

_**Ten Minutes Earlier**_

Damon's foot was hovering over the welcome mat outside the Gilbert front door when Stefan tripped up the porch steps behind him. Stefan groaned and leaned heavily on the metal railing. Damon had a week before Stefan would lose the battle with the werewolf venom. With every step they took, the venom was poisoning his stagnate blood. Damon had maybe a day or so before Stefan would start to hallucinate. By that time, he'd have to be locked away in the cellars beneath the Salvatore mansion.

Damon prayed that time wouldn't have to come.

Damon retraced his steps back to Stefan and lifted him up, "Come on, man! Grab a hold of me here."

Stefan choked on a crackling cough, "I can't - I need to sit down, Damon."

"You can inside," Damon argued, pushing Stefan to the door, "You can sit inside, Stefan. Then, I'll go grab that gun from the Winchesters and I'll serve you up a glass of Klaus's blood with tequila to celebrate."

Ignoring Stefan's exhausted protests, Damon wrapped his sharp knuckles on the door. Alaric's head jolted from where he had been slumped at the island in the kitchen. He blinked heavily at the source of the noise and grunted drunkenly as he staggered to his bare feet.

"Why am I not surprised?" Alaric grumbled when he met Damon's eyes as he opened the door; Alaric's eyes widened when they fell on Stefan hanging off of Damon, "_Now_ I am. Is that a _werewolf bite_?"

"Klaus bit him," Damon explained as he squeezed passed Alaric and deposited Stefan on the couch in the living room. "Sorry, man, I would've gone to my place. But, he's just too weak to make it that far."

Alaric bolted the front door and joined Damon where he was sitting on the back of the couch. The pair of them watched Stefan's chest quiver as he tried to breathe normally.

"You can't face them alone!" Stefan tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but, collapsed back onto his back.

Damon pressed his finger to his lips, "_Shhh_, you're gonna wake-up Elena!"

"Who's he talking about?" Alaric demanded, frowning at Damon; the resigned-look Damon replied with was answer enough, "No, Damon! That's suicide!"

"And what if I _don't_ go?" Damon asked his friend, gesturing at Stefan, "Stefan's a dead man if I stay! What - do you _want _to watch him die? 'Cause I _can't_ and I _won't_."

Stefan mumbled through a groan, laboring hard to remain alert, "Please, Damon, just stay ... we'll figure this out ... _together_ ..."

Alaric laid his hands on Damon's brawny shoulders and shook the vampire, "_Listen_ to me! If their pistol doesn't get you, that angel will!"

Damon got to his feet and shook himself free of Alaric's grip, "Come at me, bro!"

Faking his signature cocky grin to go along with that pop. culture reference, Damon vanished in a blur of speed. The front door swung lazily in his wake.

* * *

Damon's white hands curled into fists as Sam seamlessly arranged his very tall body into a fighting stance, setting himself between the vampire and his older brother. His long skinny legs were spread apart, his waist was turned, one arm was holding Dean back, and the other was clutching the bloodstained stake. Damon appraised Katherine's silver face lolling on Dean's forearm for a few seconds, pausing on the deep cut in her cheek, before giving himself a little shake.

He curled his lip, "It took the world's most famous hunters to take that old bitch down. But, I have a few pointers: you could've made it quicker. Letting your victim die in fear ... that's pretty _monstrous _of you."

Sam gulped, thinking over what Damon had said, while Dean scoffed, "A poacher feels no guilt when he takes out a lion."

"And a lion feels no guilt when he bites back," Damon retorted at the older of the hunters.

"Why didn't you come to her rescue?" Sam asked, frowning down at Damon. "You were listening the _whole_ time and did _nothing_. That makes you just as bad -"

"Sam, stop trying to reason with the vampire -," Dean growled.

"What've you done?" Sam snarled, eyeing the innocent people with worry, "What've you done to these people?"

Damon cracked his neck, bringing himself back to his mission, "Where's the pistol?"

"They're Compelled, Sam." Dean dropped Katherine's body on the floor and fished the Colt out of his jacket, "Be careful what you ask for, Salvatore."

"My brother is dying," Damon made a last-ditch attempt to sway them, even though he knew it would be in vain. "He's gonna die if I don't take that gun to Klaus! Give it to me!"

Sam thought of Stefan, "What's wrong with him?"

"He's lying, Sam." Dean rolled his eyes, cocking the gun, "You're becoming too much of a liability for me to keep sparing, Salvatore -"

Damon felt like his words were tumbling over one another now that Sam was letting him speak his mind, "It's my fault! Klaus bit him as incentive for me. He knows ...," Damon pleaded, "he knows I'll do anything to cure him. Stefan sacrificed himself to save me once. I owe the bastard -"

Sam's angled brows softened in sympathy. This sounded all too familiar. Sam thought of how he felt when Dean told him he had sold his soul to bring Sam back from the dead.

Dean scowled at Sam's silence and scooped up Katherine's body again, "Come on, man!"

Dean handed the pistol over to his brother. Damon's blue eyes reddened alarmingly and blood vessels pumped almost to the surface of the thin skin around his eyes as he watched the Winchesters weave their way through the Compelled crowd. Sam kept the Colt's barrel aimed at the desperate vampire the whole way. Damon ran his thin fingers through his jet black hair after they squeezed themselves out the door.

"Shows just starting, folks." Damon smirked at the glazed eyes following him to the front door of the restaurant, "But, for _you_, it's over. Forget everything you've just witnessed once I've closed this door behind me."

Damon caught Sam's hazel eye while the giant lowered himself laboriously into the short Chevy Impala. It would have been comical to Damon to watch such a large man squeeze himself into the compartment if his mind wasn't on saving Stefan's life.

"_Perfect_," Damon smiled, watching the Impala exit the restaurant parking lot and merge onto the highway.

In a car, the hunters would be vulnerable. Damon could snatch the pistol on the interstate. They can't do anything about it lest they'll crash. The face of the angel, Castiel, hovered hauntingly in his mind's eye. Then, that face melted into the image of Stefan retching in his sleep on Elena's couch. Damon surged forward, leaving a cloud of white dust in his wake as he sliced through the graveled parking lot.

"I saw that look in your eye," Sam confessed while watching the only other car on the road take an exit. "Before you gave me the Colt. You were afraid I'd actually give it to Damon."

"You've got a big heart, Sammy." Dean groaned, resting his elbow on the windowsill of his door and propping his head up on the knuckles of that arm. "Literally and metaphorically. I watched you listening to that vampire's sob-story. He might as well have transformed into a box of abandoned kittens, the way you were lookin' at him -"

"Think about it," Sam squinted down at Dean,"how is he any different from you?"

Dean raised his brows and took his eye off the road to return the squint,"For _starters_, I've never killed anything that's innocent -"

"He's trying to save his brother," Sam clarified, "Is that completely unfathomable to you?"

Dean groaned with tiredness,"It's not the same thing and you know that, Sammy. We've gotta find a place to dispose this body -"

Sam wasn't deflected by Dean's change in subject,"I've been infected with demon blood since I was a baby, Dean. I'm not human and you've laid your life down for me countless times!"

Dean glowered up at Sam,"You're my brother and nothing's changing that."

"You sold your soul for me," Sam plowed-on argumentatively. "If Damon's telling the truth, Stefan did something like it for him, too."

Dean scoffed, "Yeah, '_if _' being the operative word."

A few silent seconds passed before Sam asked Dean,"Did you see his face? Did you listen to his voice? Dean, he wasn't lying. Maybe Stefan's really in danger -"

Dean suddenly pulled over onto the bike lane and put the Impala in park.

Dean twisted in his seat to face Sam,"Alright-y, Sammy. Let's just drive on over to the Gilbert house and hand them over the Colt. Let's go save a vampire whose gonna die, by _our_ hands, anyway. Want me to gift wrap the Colt first? Is this what you're badgering me into doing?"

Sam had recoiled from Dean as his brother was shouting at him.

Begrudgingly, Sam eventually admitted aloud,"... No. I just wish there was something we could do -"

Dean smacked the steering leather steering wheel before reaching to turn on the Impala,"_Damn it_, Sam. For someone whose supposed to be 'not human', you sure do care like one." The engine turned over with a roar after Dean twisted the key in the slot, "Your humility is gonna get us killed someday!"

Just as the large wheels were turning to merge back onto the empty starlit road, Sam's door was yanked open.

"That day has arrived!" gasped Damon breathlessly, his fangs barred.


End file.
